Koiji Ni
by Tengu ni Naru
Summary: In Southern Gandara, the heir to the fief leaves, embarking on an adventure with an interesting, prideful but talented stranger, promising glory, fame, adouration... But whose? This is the story of the friendship of Suzuki and Shishiwakamaru immortalised.
1. Chapter I

**authors' note:**

This is Suzuki's player, Matty, telling you that this story was written by, not one, but two people. It is a free-standing (that means no silly plots from some role-play community out there that will leave you readers in the dark) role-play log, for the Japanese anime "Yuu Yuu Hakusho" about the meeting and relationship development of (Utsukushii Matouka) Suzuki and Shishiwakamaru.

There is a difference in writing styles, you'll notice, which is a good reason for this note; this is, obviously, because two different people are writing! On the plus side, the whole thing is in English! ♥

Another thing to be noted:  
There are a lot of traditional Japanese elements found throughout this story, being set in an environment based from distant pasts there. The Heian era (Heianjidai) Japan was from the late eighth to the thirteenth centuries, and was a very romantic and fantastical age. This story might require some basic understanding of Japanese language, customs, and history; some good examples being to know what tengu are (legendary bird demons), what a katana is (a certain type of popular samurai sword), what samurai are (samurai and bushi are types of Japanese warriours, 'bushi' being less specific), what some types of clothing (kimono, suikan, geta, hakama, etc.) are. We try to be as descriptive as we can in mentioning these traditionalities, without going off on a tangent (which is very possible), but, please, if you have questions or do not understand, you can do an online search (we recommend Wikipedia) for the topic, or simply ask about it in your review; we will try to answer speedily.

We really do hope you enjoy this story!

(A cool note? The title was really fun to come up with, regardless how many people I had to run around checking my accuracy with. "Koiji ni" is Japanese, roughly translating to "In Romance" or "In Love's Path." However! When you squish the subject and particle together --- completely changing the kanji, mind you, but the sounds are basically the same --- you come up with "koijini," which would be "dying in love." :3)

Without further ado, this is the first installment of the adventure, "Koiji Ni!"

(By the way. ♥ We like reviews. c;)

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The sun was just beginning to beat against the ground, wet with dew from the night. It was just setting into the Hour of the Rat, the sun rising over the plains of Gandara. A soft wind blew through the tree tops, and dark clouds promised an early morning rain from the East. 

A dirt path ran along a thick clearing out of the forest towards, or from, the small village of the castletown. In southern Gandara, there was a large part that felt none of the modern advancements, ignoring any ningen or Western influence, staying into the days of Heianjidai. It was the fief of a samurai family, naturally, as was muchly everything within the large southern prefecture. In it, everyone knew their place, their class; carpenters, farmers, merchants, bushi, the women of the willow world... And far, far off were the outcaste, the henin, the eta; entertainers, convicts, people who worked with death, the untouchable, the filthy, sub-people. The morning sun that rose above the mountains and trees was not so beautiful to them as it was to commoners, court goers... Samurai.

Coming up along the path, a tall, thin, but well-built man came his way, a leather sack bulging of various items, wooden poles and parchment scrolls, bows, sword hilts, arrows, and any number of other random things amongst them. He wore a lose cotton kimono and plain hakama, tied to his legs. He held on his sash a small leather bag, which was jostled with each proud step he took towards the castletown of Minamoto fief.

Shishiwakamaru, as usual, was in a foul temper. Another argument with his father, but this time, the young samurai had had enough! Not even his mother running after him stopped Shishi from grabbing his katana and after packing a bag, heading out of the large estate where the head of the Minamoto clan, his father, presided as daimyo. Shishi wanted out, and now. So he was not watching where he was going as he stormed along the road, muttering to himself with anger and annoyance. As he passed, people bowed to him as usual and girls giggled and swooned, but he paid them no heed, not today.

He had grown up an only child to the head of the Minamoto clan and his young wife, and had been spoiled from birth. Nursemaids, the best tutors and sword-masters. But still, Shishiwakamaru was hardly the ideal of the samurai. He was vain, selfish, and despite the fact that his father had named him after a legend, Shishi had little to no incentive to take after his namesake. With a huff, the young tengu kicked a rock on the road hard, heedless of anyone else around him.

The rock skipped along the path, bringing up dirt and dust in the early sun as it went. Eventually, it ceased before two wooden geta-sandal clad feet, which, in turn halted. The carrier of all of the items stared at the rock for a moment through teal-coloured eyes, before looking up to seek the sender of it... And thusly, he found coming his way, a young samurai of feminine build. At least, the man thought it to be a samurai boy; he could be mistaken. It could be a female shirabyoshi, a dancer in male's clothes, or something of that sort, knowing these parts... The man hiked his bag up upon his shoulders tighter, stepping forward briskly once more, not taking his eyes from the on-comer.

Shishi noticed someone staring at him, which was not unusual, but it was not a giggling girl which caught his attention. His sharp violet eyes met the man's green eyes though, looking the other over for a moment. He said nothing, and his stare was even, as if challenging the other to speak first or call him on his rude manners.

Approaching the boy, the artisan did establish a gender... and class. His stare was equally challenging, and his air very prideful, as the blonde came nearer. When within the proximity of the bushi, he halted, bowing low, almost subtly mockingly, to the boy. His lips remained sealed, and his face not very expressive.

Shishi frowned; he was not used to anyone but his father and sensei meeting his stare in such a way. And from a lower class person, no less! The frown remained as he watched the stranger bow towards him. "You should show more respect towards those of higher status!"

The blonde man nodded, his hair loose and let down, hovering in the air as he bowed. "Forgive me, Osamurai-sama," he said slowly, with that same proud, quasi mocking air that his stare held.

Shishiwakamaru gave the other a disdainful look, but something about the other sparked his interest. But he was samurai and samurai did not make friends or socialize with others below their caste. "What are you selling? Or are you of the working class?" Shishi asked, raising one eyebrow.

The man did not rise, continuing to stare at the ground, supressing a proud smirk. "I am an artisan, Osamurai-sama, with little to no business to my name thus yet," he replied evenly, in the same tone as before. "I am travelling in search of people interested in items I have made, so that I may establish a reputation for myself."

"Like what kind of items?" Shishi raised one eyebrow, and crossed his arms as he looked down at the man. He did not tell the other to rise; Shishi was rather arrogant and liked to rub in the fact that he was not only samurai, but also the daimyo's son.

Though none but the former was known to the artisan who bowed before the boy; nor could he care, save to rescue his own fate from the blade of the bushi's katana. Such disrespect would be viewed as unlawful, and it was perfectly within justice for the man to be beheaded right here did he make any of the arrogant comments swelling inside him. "I have various weapons not suitable for a samurai of your own status, Osamurai-sama," he began, stressing the honourific, "artifacts of onmyoudou, and other practices, in addition to simple items and charms." It was getting harder and harder to keep his face clean of amusement, and he began to worry for items that shifted within his sack on his back, in fear they escape, revealing his truth. The blonde was tempted to steal a glance at the effeminate boy before him, but thought better of it for the moment, given their... ideal positions.

"I want to see," Shishi ordered. He had always wanted a new sword instead of the one handed down to him. The blade was well made and had been taken care of by the previous owner, but Shishi wanted a truly powerful weapon. After all, since he wanted to be famous, he would need to be powerful to achieve that dream.

The blonde man stiffened. He was not mentally prepared for that to have happened, but nonetheless rose, pulling the heavy sack from his back, setting in onto the ground as he kneeled with it before the samurai. "I have only one katana to offer," he explained, a worried looking spreading his face. He grasped the hilt of the sword that stuck from the opening of the bag, extracting it. He took it in another hand, holding it against his cupped palms so to display it at arms length to the bushi. The sheath was very decorative, with intricate carvings of ume blossoms lacing it, the paint sparkling against the morning sun. The man kept his eyes lowered to his own lap as he sat kneeled there, his haunches against his calves and the heels of his feet.

Shishi looked over the katana with a critical eye; it seemed well made, a masterpiece. But there was something more...strange about it. Without asking he reached out to grasp it, inspecting its balance and weight. "This is finely made...what is the price?"

The blonde tried not to smirk. "Two bu," he replied stonily, keeping his head lowered. Within the area, it retained the money system of olden times, in which roughly six bu could support a household for a month. The price was not suiting for the terrible sword held within the case, and the man knew so. It was a battered sword, and was rather dull. He had not planned to offer it for sale, but had caved into his amusement for this situation. Besides; the man knew for a fact that samurai dealt not with money, and if he could make a high amount from a gullible young boy for a weak sword in beautiful clothing... so be it.

"Two bu, hm? And what makes it worthy of such a price?" Shishi asked with amusement, a glint in his violet eyes. Of course many assumed that he was not too bright, due to his appearance and temperment, but in reality, Shishiwakamaru was a rather clever tengu... when he wanted to be, at least.

The man wanted to lurch, but remained very calm on the outside. Immediately, without thought, the words jumped from his mouth: "I made it." He habitually stressed the noun a bit proudly.

Shishi looked up from the sword to give the man a long look then burst out laughing as he handed the sword back. "And you want to sell it for that much? Do you think I am stupid? HA!" The tengu rolled his eyes as he started to turn away. "I should deal with you for attempting to pass off a well made sword as your own work, since I highly doubt you made it. But, I must be on my way at the moment ,so consider yourself lucky."

The man rose, shoving the katana back into the bag. He heaved it up to his shoulders again, furrowing his brow and bowing once more low to the samurai. "It is my own work, Osamurai-sama," he proclaimed, a hint of both pride and irritation. The sheath, at least, was his own; the sword he had picked from a rogue. He made no mention of thanks or good luck to the bushi, waiting for the boy to move his feet... It was not easy to have such weight against your lowered back for so long.

Shishi accidently bumped into the bag as he walked away, but he did not notice or pause as he walked away, flipping his blue hair over his shoulder in an arrogant gesture.

The artisan stood once more, and walked away in the direction that the samurai had came from, his geta slapping against his feet in his huffy walk. The pouch at his side fell to the ground with a sharp clink, and was kicked aside by the blonde man unnoticed, to within a nearby bush by the path side. There was nothing more that he hated, aside from a handful of things, of course, than to be insulted and not able to do anything about it.

After a couple long moments, the man felt there was something missing, gazing down to his waist only to find it empty. He spun round, eyes wide with outrage. That was not for silly toys like he had shown the rude boy... He watched for a second as the samurai continued down the path, before it occurred to him what had happened, The man grasped the bag against his back, setting off at a fast trot, careful to run in the heeled sandals gracefully. "Thief!" he shouted loudly, piercing the silence of the early morning. "Thief!" The claim was repeated in outrage a second time.

Shishi paused when he realized the man was shouting at him, and one eyebrow twitched. "I really hope you are not speaking to me," the samurai said in a very cold tone as he looked at him. Granted the other was taller and most likely outweighed him, Shishi was a vicious fighter. That and he was samurai, and thus, the power of high status.

The man came to a halt, staring hard at the boy. He relinquished his grip on one side of the sack, pointing his finger at the samurai from a short distance away. "You! You've stolen my pouch!"

"You realize who I am? Why would I steal anything form the likes of i you /i ?" Shishi raised an eyebrow, insulted. If he had to go back to get his father to sort this out, he would be furious and he would make sure the other would regret this. "Don't blame me for things you are stupid enough to lose!"

The blonde glared at him, unafraid, for the most part. "I don't care who you are, but I assure you that I have never lost anything in my life of mine own creation! Don't dare to insult me without knowing who I am, and furthermore!" he crowed, pointing still as he glowered at the boy, his tone proud, and insulted. "I demand you return my items!"

"How dare you!" Shishi narrowed his eyes that were slowly starting to turn into pinpoints, a warning sign... "I am the son of the lord of this area, and I will behead you, right here and right now, for such an insult!"

The man smirked, lowering his hand and drawing it back to himself. With a flick of his wrist, throwing his hand out from his face in a gesture of arrogance, he replied in an airy, egotistical voice: "I thought I told you that I do not care who you are?"

Shishi's bangs were starting to waver and become more pointed. Such disrespect! "You should care, and for such lack of respect, I will make sure you regret your foolishness!" the samurai stated coldly as he started to draw his katana.

The man stepped back, staring at the angry young boy. Such ferosity... He was not expecting such from the effeminate bushi before him. It was beginning to spark his interest. "Do proceed," he replied smugly, letting go of the bag on his back to rely on his shoulders to hold it. "Osamurai-sama!" The last name was added with a highly mocking tone, a smirk, and a laugh, as the blonde drew his arms apart from each other, assuming a battle stance.

Shishi snarled, revealing sharp pointed fangs now. Long horns had appeared from his forehead; Shishi may have been pretty, but it was clear the samurai had a very nasty side. "I will make your death slow and painful then!" He had a very dark look of cruel amusement on his face now, but he wondered what gave the other so much confidence.

The blonde retained his smirk, staring evenly at the samurai, waiting for him to approach. "I will be awaiting my slow and painful death, Osamurai-sama..."

Shishi hissed, and in a blur of speed, he brought the katana down and around towards the other. But he remained wary, unless this person was stupid, there must be a reason for them to just stand there...

As the samurai charged, the blonde waved his arms slowly in the shape of a circle. A youki charged was emmitted heavily as sparks of it appeared between his hands, which were then engulfed within a transparent, dark orb, constructed of that same ki. It set itself forward towards the samurai, charging slowly the blade of the sword in the boy's hand. The blonde man smirked.

Shishi came to a stop, nearly falling over as he did. He was not stupid enough to charge through something so strange and... creepy. He changed directions, twisting around to get around the orb and attack from a new angle now.

Which was effective, save for the fact that the blade of his sword remained within the orb. It sent out weak waves of youki as the blade hovered further towards the middle of the sphere, wobbling and wavering within it, the sparks of youki outside and within it increasing. And then, within a moment, the blade disappeared, the dark orb disipating to where it had sat. A final zap of the man's youki, and the ball, too, disappeared into thin air.

Shishi had tried to hold onto his sword but to no avail. He could not help but stare for a few moments before turning his fury upon the man. "How dare you! I demand you return my sword at once! Stealing a samurai's sword is punishable by DEATH!"

The man grinned, shrugging. "I have no idea where it went, otherwise, I promise that I would," he replied smugly. A bow was given to the samurai. "I do not want to die more than anyone else."

"But... that... that was MY sword!" Shishi stomped his foot, almost throwing a childish fit at the moment, but he didn't care; it was unspeakable of what the man had done. This landed Shishi in a tough place; he did not want to go home to ask for help, but he could not let this slide...

The artisan offered the man a sympathetic pout. "Well, I am sorry that you have forced yourself to lose your sword," he replied smoothly. "But it does not change that I still demand my items back. Afterwards, I will let you on your way to carry on with you 'important things.'" A smirk.

Shishi decided at that moment he did not like this person. Not at all. Well, Shishi tended not to like many people. But he especially did not like this one. "I did not steal anything of yours, and give me back my sword!" Shishi growled, furious.

The man sighed, becoming a bit irritated with the boy's persistence. "I do not have your sword," he explained. "It has been transported somewhere; perhaps your home, perhaps another dimension. I do not know where, nor do I care."

"You...!" Shishi hissed as he suddenly attacked the other, aiming to scratch the blonde's face with his now extended claws. He just wanted to hurt the other in his rage, not caring that he had lost his temper.

The blonde's eyes widened, the tengu's claws coming into contact with his cheek several times too quickly. At last he grabbed the boy's hands together in his right, and grabbed him by the waist with his left. "There is no need for attacking me," he hummed with a smug smile on his face, holding the boy best he could.

"Let...me...go!" Shishi hissed, and struggled in the man's grasp. "How dare you lay a hand on ME!" he snarled, bringing one knee up towards the blonde's stomach. Shishi was not giving up without a fight.

The artisan's stomach came into contact with the samurai's knee, as he tightened his grip. "Now that we are at an agreement," he began smugly, smirking. "I would require my pouch back."

Shishi frowned, one eyebrow twitching. "I don't have it!" The samurai glared up at the man; this one was different from anyone he had ever met before...

A hard stare was given to the bushi. "Then, tell me," he mused sarcastically. "Where has it gotten to?"

"I have no idea, nor do I care!" the tengu's horns still showed, and he bared his sharp fangs at the other, still livid.

The man narrowed his eyes, frowning a bit. "Care," he demanded, his hold on the boy's wrists becoming stronger.

"No!" Shishi struggled to get away, hissing.

The blonde said nothing, but tugged the boy towards him, staring at him harshly in the eye, a head taller than the samurai.

Shishi glared right back up at the other with pinpointed violet eyes.

He smirked, a small chuckle escaping the man. "What a strange boy," he commented airily, letting the samurai loose, pushing him away. He was attentive for any sense of the very little ki of his own within his creations, contained in the pouch. A slight breeze blew, wavering the bushes, which hit against the pouch lying on the ground. The man glanced in that direction quickly, then back to the angry bushi.

Shishi did not notice where the pouch really was as he kept his eyes on the man before him. He had to admit, the other had nice eyes... but Shishi tried to stay focused on his rage.

The man simpered, staring back at the boy. After a long moment, another, heavier wind setting it, the blonde bowed to him, mocking the boy's class once again. "Enjoy your quest," he requested sarcastically. He glanced up at the boy through narrowed eyes, smirking once more. "Osamurai-sama," he added to tease.

"I demand since you stole my sword that you replace it!" Shishi demanded, crossing his arms and glaring at the other with anger.

The man raised himself, and stared at the boy for a long time. "Perhaps," he mused, grinning. Very perhaps.

"NOW!" Shishi stomped his foot, acting very childish; but he was a rather young demon, and was used to getting what he wanted, when he wanted it.

He gave the boy a cross look. He bowed again, and turned around, attempting to continue back on his way.

"How dare you ignore me!" Shishi followed the other, refusing to give up.

The artisan made no response, heading towards the bushes in quest of his pouch.

Shishi huffed and with leapt forward to tackle the man to force the other to notice him.

The man came into contact with the other. He nearly fell, tripping a bit, a wrapped up scroll leaping from his bag upon his back. He entwined his fingers into the boy's hair from the back, yanking his head gently to stare him in the face. "Please," he said simply, knitting his brow. He did not continue.

"I told you not to ignore me," Shishi said coldly, glaring at him. He never bluffed.

"I did not ignore you," he countered, smirking, still holding the boy. "I told you that I might return to you a sword." His tone was smooth, proud with himself. "I do not take orders, on the other hand, from brats."

"Brat! I am not a brat!" Shishi huffed, not pulling away, though he did calm down slightly.

The man smirked. "Yes, you are," he corrected, happy with himself.

"Am not!" was the bratty response from Shishi.

The man laughed richly, letting the boy loose for the second time as he kneeled to retrieve the scroll that had been dropped.

Shishi didn't attack again as he watched the other with narrowed violet eyes. He said nothing as he crossed his arms, waiting.

The man ascended slowly, turning back to the boy as he stuck the scroll into his sleeve. After a moment, he sighed. "Can I help you?" he asked narrowly, staring at the boy.

"I am waiting for my sword," Shishi said evenly.

The man looked at him. "I have only one sword on me, and you scoffed at it beforehand. Why should I be willing to give you my craftmanship after you have been so rude to me?" he asked equally evenly, nearly glaring at the samurai.

"Well, if you don't, I will have you beheaded, or killed in a very painful manner." Shishi suddenly had a creepy look on his face now, violet eyes glinting in an odd way...

The man cocked a brow. "Is that so, hmm?" he asked, bemused. "I suppose there is nothing I can do but die, as you are not willing to pay two bu for my sword, and you are not willing to wait," he said airily, not meaning what he spoke. He walked slowly towards a bush, kneeling down and sticking his hand beneath it, looking away from the samurai.

"You stole MY sword in the first place!" Shishi snapped, getting angry again.

"You attacked me," he countered blandly, extracting his hand from the bush with a small leather pouch wrapped in it. It clanged as it moved, the man tying it about his sash as he stood up. "It was self defense." He turned at gave the boy an even stare.

"...You started it!" Shishi huffed with anger.

He smirked. "Through misunderstanding, though; how can you hold that against me?" he inquired smugly. "It is an easy mistake."

"Easily. I am samurai, you are not, and I order you to hand over my sword," Shishi demanded, one eyebrow twitching.

He sighed again, becoming irritated. "I have told you once and now again, I do not have that sword!" he retorted, glaring. "I have no idea where it has gone to, and I have no method of retrieving it. Perhaps this is your karma, and were you not such a twit, things would not happen to you in this way!" His tone was very arrogant, scolding the boy. He hiked the bag over his shoulders again, and began walking.

Shishi ran up ahead to stand in the man's way, glaring. "Hand over that sword. Now."

He grinned at him. "I refuse," he stated. "Go home and get a different one. I am sure there are many."

Shishi huffed, looking to the side. He did not want to go home, or even admit that he couldn't go home and swallow his pride at the moment. But he looked back at the artisan again, glaring. "Don't question my orders."

The man glared at him in return, speaking in a flat tone. "Go home, boy."

"No," Shishi said firmly.

The blonde's facade never shifted. "Go home, or let me alone. You are not getting this sword without payment, and I doubt with what name you have to you that you warrant it without."

"I refuse." Shishi stood his ground, narrowing his eyes.

The artisan's eyes narrowed just as much. "Then I will force the latter option," he threatened darkly.

Shishi just glared at the other in a silent challenge for him to do his worst.

He stared at the boy evenly for a long moment, before he sighed, exasperated, reaching back and extracting the sword from his sack.

Shishi smirked, assuming he had won and that the other had finally gave in.

The man bowed low, lowering his lashes as he stared at the sword within his hands, wanting for the samurai to come and retrieve it as he stood, stepping forward.

Shishi stepped forward, his eyes on the sword as he reached out to take it...

He smirked. The blonde quickly stepped forward and to the side, sword in hand, sheathed, and struck out, hitting the boy hard on the back of the neck, though not hard enough to kill him.

Shishi did not have any time to react before he collapsed on the ground, knocked out cold. He would have a headache when he woke... and a nasty temper.

The man replaced the sword to his bag, staring at the figure prone on the ground. He smiled, lingering for a moment before he hiked up his sack, and set off again, his geta sandals smacking softly against the backs of his feet. Another breeze rushed through, shifting grey clouds in the sky. He chuckled to himself, the breeze brushing blonde hair from seagreen eyes, whistling through the trees around them.


	2. Chapter II

Tadan! Matty, again, Suzuki's player, here. (I'll usually be the one posting, I'm thinking :3) Sorry this chapter has taken so long to post. I've had it. Just... I have not been editing. This actually isn't as carefully proofread as I usually would have, because I'm so desperate to post it and to not keep you waiting any longer. Life's just been very busy for me, lately, so you must forgive me for the delay.This is Chapter II of Koiji Ni. (Note that in Heian Japan, they don't wear kimono, but since the village is not truly set in those times, it has gone through some cultural evolvement through history, such as adopting kimono in addition to Heian garb.)

Please enjoy! Don't forget that we like to read reviews! Have a wonderful day everyone, and God bless!

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A breeze blew from the mountains, whistling against the clay tiles spread over the roofs of the small town. From within a large estate, a large ornamental clock struck nine times, announcing the high noon of the day; a servant girl whispered to another of how the hour of the horse arrives so fast, and yet their lord sleeps so slowly. Both giggled nervously.

The town outside the private estate bustled with life, all clad traditionally. It was the fief of Minamoto, in Southern Gandara. The mood was light and happy, though hardly care-free, as all worked hard, knowing the opposite of such was hardly an option. The May-time sun shone brightly through the town, and the heat was mild and bearable.

A blonde man passed through, wearing a colourful kimono, short, with swinging sleeves. Below him were cloths tied tightly to his shins, beginning directly below the knee. He wore wooden geta sandals, and had a box wrapped in a black cloth, which was tied over his shoulders, his hand clutching the knot at his collarbone. Teal eyes stared forward, ignoring the strange look given by the virtually Heian townspeople.

He approached the walls of the castle, walking a long ways, passing alley after alley, wall after wall. All estates were walled, and he saw a bare amount of grass here and there along the streets.

The man frowned, tugging at his sack as he approached a bald man holding a pike, and a large black bag, standing before the gate. The man bowed his head to the bald other, whom did the same.The blonde smiled lightly, looking almost devious as he took out a small cotton pouch from the inside of his hard obi. He bowed once more, handing the bag to the man. It jingled notably. The one receiving the gift bowed deeply, the wind rustling his hakama. Setting down the pike and larger bag to the ground, the opening revealed a gruesome face of a man with a partially shaven head and a top knot, staring back up mennacingly towards the blonde. With a look of nonchalance, the taller blonde followed the household attendant through the entrance, slipping around back towards the servants' quarters.

The two men ascended the short wooden stairway of a long building after exiting those quarters and cutting speedily through a corner of the courtyard. It was connected to many others, with long wooden halls, windowed gates and railings surrounding most halls, which were exteriour. They sped across the wooden floors, along the deck of the house, turning a corner right. They passed rooms after rooms, until the attendant halted suddenly, giving the other an odd glance. The blonde bowed his head, smirking. The attendant stepped forth towards the shoji screen, the sun shining through it, brightening the wooden room. He slid it open, wearing an arrogant mask, assuming his usual tough nature as he entered. There were other similar doors within the room, which contained only a small girl, not extravagantly dressed. The attendant barked for her to leave, whereupon the blonde entered smoothly, gazing about the room. They slid through the door adjacent to their entrance, turning down a hall.

The attendant pointed his finger towards the last door at the end, not saying a word to the blonde. He bowed, and vanished out a different screen, stepping again onto the deck and shouting at someone harshly in the courtyard. The blonde snuck down the hall, slipping his hand down and removing his geta, which he held in his hand. His feet pressed against the wooden floor, and he approached the thin door. He smiled to himself, a very faint blush wiping over his cheeks as he shut his eyes in thought. Shaking his head, his spiked hair shifting itself with the motion, he opened his eyes, looking very confident, challenging, proud. The man switched his geta into the hand holding the knot at his throat, pausing before he slid the door open very slightly, peeking inside. With what he saw pleasing him, he slid the door open fully, stepping onto the tatami matted floor; it was very soft beneath his feet. He grinned deviously, shutting the door quickly behind him.

Shishi was still asleep under his blankets despite it being daylight outside. He curled up along a long pillow, snoring softly. His blue hair was down and a few strands fell over his sleeping face, which was calm compared to when he was awake. Shishi wore a light blue sleeping kimono that was only loosely tied. He had no idea there was someone else in his room as he rolled over, yawning but slept on.

The man smiled softly, analysing the boy. He went over quietly across the room, passing the curtain stands and folding screens, while avoiding to step into the decorated face wash bowl that sat against the floor. Candle sticks and stands stood behind some curtains, which he was careful to avoid as he stepped towards a rich kimono displayed on a stand behind a screen that had been set out by servants early in the morning. Below it was a shorter stand, an split hakama displayed proudly. The blonde placed his geta on the floor, taking the kimono and hakama from their stands. Picking his sandals up again, he draped the outfit over his arm, and stalked toward the boy lying on the matress sheet on the floor, descending to his knees. From the entrance to the room, neither could be seen from behind the extravagent curtain on its stand. He stared at the boy for a moment before leaning down, shifting the nearly silken blue strands of hair from his face. "Osamurai-sama," he hummed, smiling.

"I am sleeping, go away," Shishi was sleepy so he did not realize it was not a servant waking him and he rolled over and slowly opened his eyes But as soon as his violet eyes were open and fell on Suzuki, the samurai sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide as he reached around for his word. "YOU! what are you doing here?!" Shishi said, backing away.

The man grinned, chuckling. "Do you not want me here?" he asked in a sing-song voice, retracting his hand.He set his geta again to the floor beside the boy's futon, setting the clothes to the floor with them on the opposite side of his lap.

"How did you get in here?" Shishi asked, his cheeks slightly red. He made sure his kimono was tied shut as he eyed Suzuki with narrowed violet eyes.

The blonde's smile did not fade. "With my feet," he responded tauntingly, setting his hands against his bare lower thighs, staring curiously at the boy.

"Funny, but my servants are ordered not to let anyone in my rooms!" Shishi growled. "And why do you have my clothes?!"

"So you may dress," he informed the boy, nodding matter-of-factly. "As to your servants, you may leave a note for one called 'Toshi' to be beheaded for treason before we leave," the man continued in a serious voice, the smile disipating from his face.

"Toshi let you in? And leave? Ha, I am not leaving!" Shishi ventured forth to snatch his clothes from Suzuki. "I am the son of the daimyo, what you think I would just go off with you?"

The man sighed, heaving his shoulders as he placed his hands against the floor, beginning to stand. "If you do not want your new sword, then," he breathed, staring to the ground during this motion.

"New sword?" that caught Shishi's attention. "But I can't leave..." he frowned, but he was torn. New sword... or leave his family.

The man grinned, glancing at the boy. "Yes, the sword I promised," he continued, halting with one knee up, one against the ground, his palms still against the floor. "You do not want it now, evidentally. So I will leave, and throw it into the river." His tone was rather dramatic.

"No!" Shishi said fast before he realized it. "I will...take it, of course," he said quickly, smirking.

The man sat back down again, staring at Shishi hard with an arrogant grin. "Then you will come with me," he demanded, leaning forward.

"Come where and for how long?" Shishi asked slowly, wary. He wondered what the other wanted and he made no move to get dressed yet. He normally was not modest or shy but there was something about this man.

"Neither have been decided."

Shishi frowned. "What is your purpose then?" the samurai asked, giving Suzuki a flat look.

"All with dear time, all with dear time," he mused, smirking.

"But I want to know!" Shishi frowned as he stepped behind a screen to dress and emerged moments later to pick up a hair brush.

The man smiled. "You will know! If you come with me," he promised sweetly, standing to his feet as he looked at the newly clothed samurai.

"But I am not allowed to leave, I am the son of the daimyo, I cannot just go," Shishi pointed out, a touch of disappointment in his tone as he brushed out his long blue hair.

He grinned. "Please do," the man requested artfully, eyeing the boy.

Shishi was about to answer when the curtain to his room was parted by the servant girl who helped him get ready every morning.

"Shishiwakamaru-sama?" the girl was young and pretty...obviousy the reason why she had the job of Shishi's maid. She stared at Suzuki though wondering why there was a strange man in Shishi-sama's room. And so she opened her mouth to scream, ready to raise the alert.

Suzuki stood immediately, leaping over Shishi's futon and grabbed the girl's shoulder and head. His hand moved swiftly from her shoulder to the bottom of her neck, his grasp firm and strong. Snapping her neck, he looked to Shishi. "GO!" he ordered, leaping to snatch up his geta, and grabbing Shishi's wrist. The man tugged the boy by the wrist out the door as other household attendants, roused by the girl's scream, traversed towards the room from others, from the courtyard...The girl's body lie in the chamber behind them, her eyes wide and mouth dully open.

"My maid!" Shishi squawked with surprise then yelped again when he was tugged along by Suzuki. His hair brush fell from his hands as he ran along behind Suzuki, wide eyed.

The man dashed through the halls, and into the courtyard, opting a shorter route than that he took with Toshi. Servants and retainers passing through the place gaped as their lord was being stolen. The artisan moved his grip to Shishi's shoulder, dodging strikes from swords as they ran through. He lost the sleeve of his kimono to one bushi as he pushed Shishi through the main gate, kicking over the bundle of heads that Toshi had left nearby. The boy was tugged down the nearest street, then another, and another, before they arrived... nowhere. The two stood before a wide river, the wind blowing the tree tops that lined the shore in whites and pinks. The progressing samurai were nowhere to be seen from where they stood, a good ways from the household by that point. The man relinquished the boy's arm, dropping his sandals to the ground before the river and placing his feet into them. He gave the other a sharp look, another wind passing through, shifting his spiked blonde hair.

Shishi was too stunned to really react as Suzuki dragged him along. He should have screamed or resisted...something other then letting himself be dragged along. But when Suzuki finally stopped, he could only look at Suzuki as he paused to catch his breath. Oh he was going to be in so much trouble when his parents got ahold of him but at the moment...he didn't care.

He backed up, lifting the sack from his shoulders and neck, setting it on the ground beside him as the man leant against the blooming cherry tree behind him. "Is it like a fairy tale?" he asked in a deep voice after a long, long moment of silence. One foot was propped against the trunk of the tree.

"Fairy tale?" Shishi smirked as he sat down to rest ,looking up at the cherry blossoms. "What is so important that you dragged me away like that for?" he asked after a moment.

The blonde smirked, lowering his lashes. "I am creating a fairy tale," he stated. "Would you join me, Osamurai-sama?" he asked, mocking the title again.

"You are creating a fairy tale? And how are you doing this?" Shishi huffed, crossing his arms.

"By finding characters," he chimed, grinning at the boy now.

Ok, this was creepy. "Characters? For what?"

The blonde pushed himself off the trunk, taking up the bag lightly in his hand as he moved to sit before the samurai. He grinned. "Have you ever wanted to be famous?"

"Of course," Shishi smirked. "And you can make that happen...?"

He nodded, eyeing the boy. "My conditions are this: You journey beside me for this tournament, in which you will initially obtain the new sword I promised to you, and ultimately renowned fame," he bribed, pointing his finger lightly at the boy for idle emphasis. "If you refuse, you make no gain, and return to your household as it is now." A smirk grew across his face slowly, thinking of the scene he left the household in; that thought showed in his eyes to the boy.

Shishi had wanted to leave..and had tried many times and failed. This might be the chance he wanted for so long. And he got a new sword and fame in the deal. "I have one question," he said, looking back at Suzuki.

The other grunted lightly in return, nodding once at the bushi, not taking his eyes from him. The smirk remained on his face, more arrogant now.

"I want to know your name, you never introduced yourself to me," Shishi smirked in return.

He narrowed his eyes, grinning. "Utsukushii Matouka Suzuki," he said slowly, emphasising his self-proclaimed title. "Casually the latter, until the tournament," he added nonchalantly, waving his hand to the side with a bored look. He preferred the full name.

"Nice to meet you, Suzuki," Shishi said, purposefully leaving off the title. "Well, in the light of current conditions...I will go with you but I want that sword."

"Heh." He smirked, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I do not give swords to strangers," he teased, opening his eyes again. The sun caught the men's hair, shining against it as a graceful wind rustled cherry blossoms from their branches.

Shishi reached out to catch a cherry blossom without looking. "You may call me Shishiwakamaru," he said after a moment.

He snorted. "Shishiwaka, then." He reached into the bag, pulling out the box that filled it. It was a fine wooden box, a chrysanthemum emblam carved into the top, being the imperial emblam. He lifted the lid, inside sat a folded red and black material, with a gold character glinting in the sunlight. Beside it were three orbs, decorative, with peaches on them. There was a smaller black wooden box, and then, the sun hit onto the hilt of a sword. Suzuki lifted it, only to reveal, as should have been obvious, that there was no blade. Shutting the box and wrapping it again with the black cloth, he handed the hilt to the boy, grinning.

"No, its Shishiwaka i maru /i ," the samurai corrected but his attention was caught by the items in the box. He frowned at only be given the hilt of a sword but he took it nonetheless. "It's just a hilt...'

"Mmhmm," Suzuki agreed cheefully, tying the cloth of the box again. His smile never faded.

"Apparently you don't know much about swords but generally, swords have a blade.." Shishi said slowly, as if speaking to a child

Suzuki glared at him. "Are you stupid?" he asked, scoffing. "Put ki into it!"

Shishi gave Suzuki a doubtful look but turned his attention to the sword. A red aura of ki formed around his hands and went into the sword. The hilt started to change, twisting apart to reveal twisted innards that seemed to move. The sword suddenly had a blade as the entire thing glowed with Shishi's ki. A few skulls appeared from the sword then, screeching but they stayed around Shishi. The samurai was grinning at the sword, and there was a very cruel glint in his dark violet eyes as he gazed at the sword. "I...love it..."

Suzuki grinned. "Please release it now," he requested quaintly. "I have named it."

But Shishi seemed too wrapped in the sword for a moment but the screeching souls vanished as he twisted the hilt closed, the weird look vanishing from his eyes.

Suzuki smirked. "It is called Makokumeizanken."

"Makokumeizanken...I like it," Shishi smirked back at Suzuki before looking at the sword almost with pride.

Suzuki leaned back on his elbows. "So you are joining me?"

"If I get to use this blade and become famous...yes" Shishi nodded, his family could do without him after all.

He grinned. "You will," the blonde promised the other. "Tell me about yourself?"

Shishi leaned back against the tree, still holding the sword carefully. "Well, what do you want to know? I am the only son and child of the damiyo of this region, my family have served Yomi-sama for centuries and the such," he shrugged.

Suzuki laughed. "I asked about you, not your family."

Shishi frowned but thought for a moment. Now that he thought about it, his life was pretty..dull and centered around his family. No wonder he wanted to get away..."Well, I have spent my entire life to become the next head of my family; not the most exciting life, I admit... I have trained with the best swordmasters and have never really left this area before..."

Suzuki cocked a brow. "Your life sounds terrible," he commented with an arrogant laugh.

Shishi gave him a flat look. "I know, why do you think I agreed to come with you?"

He continued to laugh. "Because you seem selfish! You came for the sword, and my good looks!"

"Your good looks? Pffh. The sword was just a perk and don't flatter yourself," Shishi rolled his eyes.

The man gave Shishi a very serious look. "I have every right to flatter myself, regardless it is not simple flattery," he said in a warning tone.

"Right, sure, whatever," the samurai said in a flat tone, but he would not admit that he did find the other a bit attractive...

"My beauty is what I pride myself of most!" he sniffed lovingly. His face even portrayed his ego.

Shishi only raised one eyebrow as he looked at Suzuki, clearly unimpressed.

Suzuki smirked, glancing back down a street not too far off, but still enough. The sound of feet stamping against the dirt ground was heard, the clinking of swords in their sheaths against each other and the grunted shouts accompanying it. The blonde man cocked a brow, readying himself, his bags, shoes... He made no glance at the other samurai as he saw one young guard appear, disshelved looking, in the alleyway he'd been staring down, shouts rejecting that location and promising far off others behind him. Even from the distance, Suzuki could see the wide-eyed boy gaping at him, gaping at Shishi, at the river side. After a moment of staring at each other, the boy shouted out, "SENPAI!!!!" shrilly, pointing in their direction briefly before taking hold of the hilt of his sword.

The boy ran towards them, hand on sword, as others quickly appeared noisily behind him, all of whom were equally surprised, and took similar action. Suzuki, then, jumped nimbly to his feet, slinging his bags over his shoulders gracefully. He took Shishiwakamaru's wrist in his hand, his grasp tight, and yanked him to his feet. "NOW!" he commanded, his expression very serious. The blonde set them off at a run, without releasing the other, following along the riverside, the shouts of the guards and their various noises behind them, but still approaching. Suzuki's pace only quickened.

Shishi squawked with surprise as Suzuki grabbed his wrist and pulled him along. He didn't protest, though he know how much trouble he would be in if they were caught; so the samurai decided to keep his mouth shut as he ran behind Suzuki, looking behind them to see where the guards were.

Suzuki had them round corner after corner as he entered back into the town, eventually landing them at an empty part on the edge of town. The blonde cut them through a small alley, and back to a bay of a river; he doubted it was the same one. He tugged them over the bay, slowly positioning himself and his new found teammate under the curved bridge that covered part of the river. They stood, shin deep in water beneath the bridge, Suzuki's hand still clasped around the other's wrist. He stared into the water, not saying a word, for a long moment, simply standing, breathing, not releasing Shishi.

Shishi wrinkled his nose in disdain at being in the water. But he knew if he complained, as he was prone to do, that they would be found, he would be dragged home to face his father and the such. He looked at Suzuki for a moment before looking up at the bridge.

Suzuki glanced at him, still not saying a word. The currents passed over their feet and legs, babbling serenely. Suzuki then offered a light smile to the other, almost in joke of their current situation. Just as he did so, the pounding of feet and jingling and clanking of swords and charms were heard once more, and again followed the anxious shouts of the guards who owned the noises. Suzuki's grasp on the boy's wrist tightened considerably as the smile quickly dissipated from his face; their hastened footsteps boomed over their heads as the samurai ascended and descended over the bridge, heading to a different side of town--- a side that their prey was not on, as they were, near literally, right under their noses.

Eventually, the noise returned to the calm flow of the stream over river rocks and any hint of the pair's soft breathing. Suzuki smiled again, and, ducking out from under the bridge to check how clear the path was, tugged his companion out from the water and back along the path again; he still did not relinquish the other's wrist as he pulled him along, seeming a bit more apprehensive this time round.

Shishi breathed a sigh of relief when the footsteps had faded away and followed Suzuki, trying to shake the water off. He didn't protest Suzuki's grasp on his wrist oddly, but walked just behind the other, not sure what to say for a few moments. "So where are we going exactly?" the samurai asked after a moment.

Suzuki stopped suddenly, turning around to the other who questioned him. He smiled, half-smirking, a strange glint in his eye. "To Paradise," he responded smoothly, staring at the other in the eye for a moment afterward before tugging him along once more.

"You better be right... I have never left home before and I can't imagine the consequences of returning there in shame," Shishi said evenly, looking right back at Suzuki with even violet eyes.

Suzuki simply chuckled as he continued them on their way. Soon enough, he wound them up in the forest, where the man looked very alert, looking this way and that as if studying. Finally, he started them going South, trudging through the woods with a certain sobre determination. The trees were tall, their trunks thick, and the foliage was dark against what little sky you could see. Then, there was the sound of people passing through the foliage, the mention of kidnapping, tono, Shishiwakamaru, and cardinal directions; it all came from the East, the direction of the town. Suzuki tensed, and bushes rustled as a different set of bushi emerged fervently. Very quickly, very silently, the blonde was plastered to a thick tree near them, his back and bag pressed against its trunk.

Similarly, thus Shishiwakamaru was tugged into hiding as well; the boy's chest was tight to the other's, Suzuki's same hand still grasping the other's wrist, as his other arm was wrapped almost protectively around the lithe shoulders, with his hand gently holding the other's head to his own chest. To him, it was as if to say 'be quiet' while being so himself; he couldn't care less what the gesture could mean to Shishi, so long as the other was silent. They stood like this for some time, so close together in almost an awkward embrace, until finally their hunters made the decision to head West. When all seemed fine, and the pair seemed quite alone, Suzuki looked down at the samurai boy pressed against his chest.

"To the South, then," he said with an air of humour to his voice, smiling softly as he released the other gently.

Shishi let out a soft oof at being pulled against Suzuki. Though he didn't look up at the other while they stood there. When Suzuki finally released him, he quickly pulled away, adjusting his hair.

"Right, of course," the samurai said in a firm tone. "The sooner we get away, the better..."

Suzuki smirked, adjusting his clothes and bags, following the act up with an graceful toss of his head, shifting the blonde fringe from his eyes.

"Then let's head onwards," he decided, still smirking, leveling his gaze with Shishi's. "Osamuraisama," he added, not particularly mocking, but definitely with a certain emphasis added; the smirk wasn't hugely compensation to the tone, either.

"You can just call me Shishiwakamaru-sama," Shishi smirked, walking in front of Suzuki with a graceful toss of his hair, that arrogance showing through once more.

Suzuki reached out, taking the boy's shoulder firmly. He turned him around, taking his chin in his hand and grinning at him. "You don't know where you're going," he alerted the other smoothly. "Shishiwakamarusama." The name was certainly mocking this time. Suzuki laughed, releasing the boy and stepping briskly forward ahead of him. "So, follow me, or walk beside me! I can't very well follow you, now can I!" Another laugh was given as he adjusted his bags, his teal gaze set forward, to the South.

"Hmph!" Shishi huffed at that but settled for walking beside the other. "Just don't forget, though, annoy me and I can have you beheaded," Shishi remarked, crossing his arms but it was a bluff.

Suzuki laughed, smirking at the other with a cocked brow. "You just abandonned every privelage like that, Shishiwakamaru."

"It doesn't mean I am not a samurai still," Shishi pointed out. "It is in my blood after all." the samurai decided not to mention his demon form for the time being.

Suzuki looked at him as if he were very stupid. "I don't care, Shishiwakamaru. Those rights that samurai have to behead others for mere insults don't exist outside your fief, or other samurai fiefs. We'll not be visiting those others, you do realise. You have no more rights than anyone else we'll come across, save for those you gain by simply being yourself." He smirked once more. "So forget your bloodline; it really lacks importance from here on out." His tone was very grave, almost amused.

That was hard for Shishi to understand since he had be raised otherwise. But instead of arguing, he huffed once more. Besides, he most likely would be disowned after this anyway, but he did not want to admit that Suzuki was right.

"Let's just get going, I am tired," Shishi snapped, his bangs looked a bit pointed though.

Suzuki laughed, grinning at the boy. "As you wish," he said. "Osamuraisama."

And so they set off, towards the South, towards the next town, towards the future. It was the Hour of the Monkey in this May of Southern Gandara, and their lord stepped briskly forward, away from a life he'd known nothing outside of. This was the beginning their future. And somehow, the breeze blew just as sweetly...


End file.
